A Small Error of Chromatism
by McShmickley
Summary: "You ought to know them better than I do!" she hissed. "Know them?" Fenoglio fixed a blank stare on Meggie trying to process what she could have meant. Set during "Talkative Pippo" in InkHeart.


Ah, it was raining. Fenoglio sat in his study while his young grandchildren played in the halls of his home. He was cuddling two of his favorite kittens to his heart's content. It seemed that the children were less rowdy today, a treat that came only with rain and gray, clouded skies. It was a fine day, indeed.

The turtle-faced man relaxed in his large, leather arm chair and continued to pet his kittens. His thoughts began to drift away, to the world where only dreams live. As the quiet, rhythmic tapping of rain on his window lulled him to sleep, the cats escaped his grasp and scampered beneath his Oakwood desk for cover. It didn't concern him much - nothing really did when he was tired - especially on a day such as this one.

_Hmm...cupcakes._

They began raining down in delightful shades of pastels and neons from the violet sky overhead. He would need to bake himself another cake later.

Fenoglio woke with a start. Loud bangs on his front door stole him from the soft blanket of his pleasant dream, and dropped him back onto the hard cement of reality without much consideration. He blinked the sleep from his eyes before rising to his feet and stumbling toward his study door. Paula stood just outside of it, likely about to fetch her grandfather and drag him to the front door. That door could now be identified as a victim of physical assault. Seeing as there was now no need for her services, Paula scurried back down the corridor to play with her siblings. The rough banging had reduced to a rapid knock, which was quieter, but perhaps even more annoying.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Fenoglio grumbled to himself.

He cursed as he bumped his knee on a varnished wood stand outside his study. What is this accursed object still doing here, anyway? he asked himself, making a note to move it later and taking his time trudging to the door.

_I will take my own damn time in my own damn home, you brainless fools!_

Fenoglio swung the door open, in no mood to smile. He assumed it would be one of his less-than**-**friendlyneighbors coming to request that he shove socks down his grandchildren's throats. But to his surprise, it was Meggie accompanied by a soaked Pippo. He couldn't decide between feeling anger or relief at the sight of the little twit; Fenoglio hadn't known that he snuck away in the first place.

_How responsible of you, Meggie, bringing him back here,_ he thought, though he hid his gratitude behind exhaustion and annoyance.

"What on earth do you children think you're doing, running around in weather like this?" Fenoglio barked. "I was just going out to look for you. Come in, and hurry up."

_I'd like to return to my nap, if it's not too much._

Something was wrong. He gestured them inside, but they made no attempt to move. Fear was evident on their wet faces.

_Oh, no...what's happened?_

Before he could ask aloud, two men - or rather a giant and a child with an adult's visage - emerged from either side of his door and took their posts behind Meggie and Pippo. The short man clamped his hands down on girl's shoulders, while Pippo made a mad dash into the house before the giant could touch him.

"May we come in, too?" purred a soft, smoky voice. Fenoglio was surprised to hear it coming from the small fellow, who was only mere inches taller than Meggie. The other one, a lanky beanstalk of a man, planted a boot in the old man's doorway, as if he wanted to chase after the frightened Pippo. Fenoglio glanced from the pocket-sized lad to the towering man, dumbfounded.

Then he turned his bleary eyes to Meggie, "Who are these people?" he asked her with sour reproach. "Friends of your father?"

Meggie wiped the rain from her face with her sleeve and cast him a look of grave irritation.

"You ought to know them better than I do!" she hissed.

"Know them?" Fenoglio fixed a blank stare on Meggie trying to process what she could have meant. His eyes trailed over to the pint-sized man...and Fenoglio gulped. The slight fellow narrowed his chatoyant eyes and gave a fake smile. The plastic grin confirmed it.

"Great heavens above!" he gasped, "I don't believe it!"

This is amazing! Mortimer had, in fact, told the truth! It was an uplifting, and slightly frightening sensation. But not even the fear twitching in his stomach could bring him down from this gleeful mood.

_Basta..._

Paula suddenly pushed her small body between Fenoglio and the door frame, "Pippo's crying!" she announced much louder than necessary. "He's hidden in the cupboard."

"Well, you go back to him," Fenoglio replied in a daze. "I'll be with you in a minute." He was too busy boggling over his brilliant creation to pay much attention to anything else.

It made sense now. Fenoglio recognized his hazy voice, the sound that had once only been inside his head, entertaining him for years - even inspiring him to write its story.

The old man only turned to his companion when he began to speak. He could recognize him, too.

"How much longer are we going to stand out here, Basta?" the towering one asked,scrubbing rain from his dour face. "Until we shrink in this rain?"

_...and Flatnose._ Of course!

His hair was cut in a different manner than what Fenoglio imagined, but it was a perfect image otherwise. A large nose pushed flat against his face, round, dog-like eyes, and his impressive height...

"Basta!" he repeated. After studying Flatnose in a flash, Fenoglio turned back to the narrow-framed man with sugary excitement surging through his veins.

He was rather handsome, but unlike Flatnose, something of Basta's appearance was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Beads of water dripped from the tips of his hair and rolled down sun-kissed cheeks. He was about as tall as Meggie, and a hair from beingas thin. A brown strip of leather was hanging around his neck, tucked under the snow white collar of his shirt. Fenoglio knew a precious amulet was fastened to it. Those all came into check. Basta briefly rose a hand from Meggie's shoulder. Wiping his face dry, he swept his neat-trimmed bangs back, allowing Fenoglio to unmistakably analyze his lean face.

"Yes, that's my name, old man," Slender, thickly-lashed eyes twinkled and slimmed mischievouslyas he smiled again.

Basta continued to speak, but Fenoglio wasn't listening anymore. He was raking his eyes over his beautiful inkchild, taking in every detail. Basta's eyes were not the hue his creator had pictured them, but a sprinkled mix between it and several others. That was it. Wet, coppery bangs curled over narrow, high-arched eyebrows. His hair was still a portion dry, despite the heavy rainfall. The dark, wispy strands were mildly highlighted with nuances of fallow.

"That's enough talk!"

Flatnose swatted Fenoglio aside like a bug, shaking him from his observations. Basta shoved Meggie into the cottage. She cast Fenoglio a worried glance as she was pushed through the doorway past him.

Something became apparent to the old man.

_Fenoglio, you ought to learn your colors..._

It was a moment or so too late that he realized he had allowed two violent criminals to wander into a house full of small children.


End file.
